Cecile is runnin' round frantic, not even noticin' when I step inta the manor. Dishes already out on the table- the fancy kind- china with delicate flowers painted 'round the edges. Fancy glasses are set out, with the proper dining equipment next to 'em- two forks, two spoons an' one knife. I count the place mats- nine. I sigh, I knew it- Lloyd an' his daddy comin' tonigh' too. Tonigh' I gonna get my surprise- an' cause Mista Smith could 'ave 'is way with me- I need to get Lloyd to wanna marry me.
"You need help?" I call to Cecile, out of bein' real bored. I ain't got much to do- mind as well keep Cecile from bein' too stressed. An' cookin' dinner fo' all of us- includin' Mary an' I fiancees must be real hard, an' Cecile 'round 'ere all the time. She migh' kno 'bout Mista Smith.
"No darlin'- you jus' res."
"Cecile," I ask, ignorin' 'er answer, an' grabin' a napkin- placin' it at the secon' settin'. "Do you kno 'bout any deal daddy made with Mista Smith?"
She glance over at me, her eyebrows knitted an' 'er nose all scrunched. She pretendin' to look all confused, but she kno' what I talkin' 'bout.
"Chil', I dunno nothin'," she lies, or at least I think she does. I may be way off base here- jus' hopin' that she knew somethin'. But either way I ain't gonna let 'er off. If she don't kno' nothin'- she can jus' say that again.
"Now don't you lie, Cecile," I say, "You gotta kno' somethin'. Mista Smith talk like 'e own me, even though he marryin' Mary. He made some deal with daddy."
She stops workin' fo' a second, an' we both stare at each other- me droppin' my napkin. She seems to be searchin' me- lookin' fo somethin'. I dunno wha'- I dunno if I have it.
"Darlin'- not now. You don't gotta kno' now." An' with that she disappears inta the kitchen- leavin' time fo' no questions. I sigh in defeat-, fallin' into one of the open chairs. She didn't help nothin'- now I mo' confused than ever. If it about me- don't I gotta righ' to kno'? Maybe daddy wouldn't think so- cause I jus' 'is daughter, a girl, but I think Cecile would tell me. How lon' 'as she known 'bout somethin'- an' not told me? Why is she still not tellin' me?
I groan- such an unlady like thin' to do an' let my head lean back on the chair. I slouchin' real bad- but I jus' don't care. Since when did my life become somthin' that don't belon' to me?
But I guess that ain't the righ' question- cause my life 'as always belonged to daddy. I guess the real question is: How come I didn' notice before now? Why did I not even care?
"You need help?" I call to Cecile, out of bein' real bored. I ain't got much to do- mind as well keep Cecile from bein' too stressed. An' cookin' dinner fo' all of us- includin' Mary an' I fiancees must be real hard, an' Cecile 'round 'ere all the time. She migh' kno 'bout Mista Smith.
"No darlin'- you jus' res."
"Cecile," I ask, ignorin' 'er answer, an' grabin' a napkin- placin' it at the secon' settin'. "Do you kno 'bout any deal daddy made with Mista Smith?"
She glance over at me, her eyebrows knitted an' 'er nose all scrunched. She pretendin' to look all confused, but she kno' what I talkin' 'bout.
"Chil', I dunno nothin'," she lies, or at least I think she does. I may be way off base here- jus' hopin' that she knew somethin'. But either way I ain't gonna let 'er off. If she don't kno' nothin'- she can jus' say that again.
"Now don't you lie, Cecile," I say, "You gotta kno' somethin'. Mista Smith talk like 'e own me, even though he marryin' Mary. He made some deal with daddy."
She stops workin' fo' a second, an' we both stare at each other- me droppin' my napkin. She seems to be searchin' me- lookin' fo somethin'. I dunno wha'- I dunno if I have it.
"Darlin'- not now. You don't gotta kno' now." An' with that she disappears inta the kitchen- leavin' time fo' no questions. I sigh in defeat-, fallin' into one of the open chairs. She didn't help nothin'- now I mo' confused than ever. If it about me- don't I gotta righ' to kno'? Maybe daddy wouldn't think so- cause I jus' 'is daughter, a girl, but I think Cecile would tell me. How lon' 'as she known 'bout somethin'- an' not told me? Why is she still not tellin' me?
I groan- such an unlady like thin' to do an' let my head lean back on the chair. I slouchin' real bad- but I jus' don't care. Since when did my life become somthin' that don't belon' to me?
But I guess that ain't the righ' question- cause my life 'as always belonged to daddy. I guess the real question is: How come I didn' notice before now? Why did I not even care?
